


He's Got A Fever Of 103!

by RubberDuckyJr3000 (The_Madness_Linked_To_A_Hat)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fever, Fever Dreams, Human!Castiel - Freeform, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Sick Castiel (Supernatural), Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24455569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Madness_Linked_To_A_Hat/pseuds/RubberDuckyJr3000
Summary: Castiel has a fever and it’s up to Dean to take care of him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75





	He's Got A Fever Of 103!

**Author's Note:**

> Fever dreams are nightmares we experience as a result of having a high body temperature. These are emotionally intense and ghastly dreams with disturbing negative connotations. Since high body temperature makes it difficult to sleep, the disturbing nature of fever dreams increases sleep disruptions.

Looking after someone who was sick, often, felt like a chore. Just the mere thought of having to run around after them, clean up _little_ messes all while trying and failing miserably at ignoring all the petty whining made the hunter want to stock up and barricade himself in his room. True, most of Deans experience stemmed from looking after Sam, when he was much younger, as well as the none so rare situations where John needed more help than he was willing to accept. 

It was just when Cas got sick, guilt seemed to smack Dean square across the face. He had been, after all, the one who had sent a freshly humanized angel back out to fend for himself whilst also being the one who lapsed when it came to checking in. It was, somewhat, a miracle that he was even with them now. 

The miracle, which came in the form of an ol’ angel buddy, Hannah? Who had apparently, caught him climbing into a rust bucket of an old school bus, which had been ditched under some secluded bridge. During her, unusually chatty phone call, she had admitted that she had required his assistance with matters that outweighed their jurisdiction, which both he and Sam wrote off as ‘heavenly business’. 

However, his apparent state of health had been deemed unhelpful, though why she hadn’t felt the need to heal him was anyone’s guess. 

> -

Cas was a mess. Notably whimpering, though as far as the boys could tell, was barely aware of the goings-on as they aided him further into the bunker and around a few twists and stairs in  favour of the bedrooms. Sam had subtly argued that the infirmary would have been a better option, only for Dean to brush it off with the reminder that Cas didn’t like hospitals, and considering that they could _only_ speculate what the poor guy had been through, it made sense that he might appreciate a few home comforts. Such as a memory foam mattress. 

They laid him out on Deans bed, keeping all quips and comments to themselves as concern etched deep across their faces. Taking a step back, they could all but watch helplessly as the fallen angel drew himself in, all while appearing unfazed of the near mewl that somehow managed to slip past his tightly pursed lips. 

It was Sam who broke the uncomfortable silence, _highlighting_ some parts of the other angels, rather forward assessment, regarding Castiel’s condition. “Hannah suggested he might be suffering from a fever. And yeah, I guess it kinda makes sense, for all we know he could have been caught up in all that crazy change in weather that wound everyone up last week. She also mentioned that he’d been complaining about being cold during their drive up, so…” 

“Sam? Dean?”

“Cas? Hey, yeah, we’re here bud.” Dean didn’t question the swiftness of his motions, nor the fact that he’d already reached out to rest the backs of his fingers against the downed angels head like some worrisome mother hen, hadn’t planned to either until he overheard Sam awkwardly clearing his throat and what sounded like some heavy-footed shuffling. “He’s really burning up, come and help me get some layers off him.”

“Or -” Sam began, notably sidestepping towards the door. “I could take a look through _our_ supplies, see if we’ve anything to take the edge off; make him more comfortable.” Which okay, Dean couldn’t really call him on that.

“Alright, at least toss me a fresh shirt?” 

> **-**

Turns out that undressing Castiel is like battling with a toddler an hour after bedtime. The hoodie had been simple enough but the shirt … Not that he would admit it, but it was almost cute watching a former ‘angel of the lord’ try to drowsily shy away, burying his face deeper into the plush pillow and pointedly ignore any softly spoken explanations. “You’ll feel better I promise, I just need to get you out of these and into -”

“Cold.”

Pausing his ministrations, Dean pursed his lips into a tight smile. “I know bud, I know, but you’re just gonna have to try and trust me okay? I’m trying to help.” The backs of his fingers started to prickle from where they rested against a small slip of bare flesh, the pads of his fingers still loosely twisted within the hem of his best friends sweat-soaked shirt. “Shit, okay I gotta admit, this isn’t quite how I envisioned undressing you for the first time.” He quipped without thought and in hope of lightening the tone of the room, only to instantly regret his surprisingly easy spoken words. “I mean erm …” His stuttered excuse quietened into nothing more than a feeble mumble when he caught what sounded like a faint whine.

“Hey!? I thought you were …” 

Dean visibly flinched at the sudden interruption, swiftly turning his head to catch Sam who was standing in the doorway, offering a single shrug as if it were enough to finish his voiced inquiry. Thankfully, resting between both hands were, what appeared to be a glass of water and an unopened box of aspirin. “Yeah, he erm … he’s not having any of it,” The slip up of words was enough to give him pause “ - and I – I can’t keep jostling him around so, now _you_ get to help. “ 

The starting of a smile made the edges of his lips twitch but didn’t spread any further. "Now, how’s about you put those down and grab an arm?”

_Seated and bound to a chair, Castiel could all but look over the sparsely furnished room. It was small, sterile, featuring a complimentary wall of light churning out a gentle hum. In front of him sat a single desk, housing a mug of similar shade and a scattering of paper topped with a pen._

_There was **something** about this space that gave an impression of familiarity, yet, like a dream, the longer he spent trying to connect the pieces, the more indistinct the memory became._

_What was he doing here?_

_Ahead of all others, he would be the first to admit that he was not, as some would describe, a ‘perfect’ angel. He had, ‘willingly’ rebelled against all he knew and it had all been for the sake of one man; the same one in which, God himself had entrusted with the seemingly impossible task of stopping Lillith from breaking the 66 seals and inevitably, freeing Lucifer._

_Humanity **had** changed him, for the better he felt. A handful or more had openly accepted him, felt some comfort from his spilt words; while others, namely the Winchesters, had made him question his loyalties, his beliefs … had opened him up to the idea of free will. _

_It was only when an unexpected wave of stale coffee and poor hygiene heated the side of his cheek, that Castiel became aware of a shadowed presence looming over him -_

_ ‘Metatron’  _

_ Now he remembered. _

_Remembered the suffocating weight of guilt that spread across his chest, slowly and relentlessly pulling the air from his lungs. The sensation made worse with the addition of a sweat-slicked palm pressing against his furrowed brow, exposing more of his bare throat._

_“_ _Heaven, angels, all this - it doesn’t concern you anymore …” The scribe began, his stout unkempt figure shifting uncomfortably closer and revealing a twisted grin that just barely managed to push back his aged features. From just out of view, his thick calloused fingers twitched impatiently around the hilt of an angel blade. “- These were never trials Castiel; this is a spell.”_

_The drag of the blade was slow, causing Castiel’s body to awkwardly tense as an agonising wave washed through him, stripping him of all that made him celestial and leaving him as nothing more than a hollowed version of his former self. The sound of his graces screamed defiance, echoed around the room, pitching higher as a lump of heated bile rose and fell, burning the back of his tongue._

_“What I’m taking from you now, your essence, your grace, it’s the last piece._ _”_

_A sob passed Cas’s trembling lips, as he futilely turned his face from one side to the other and back again, in a weak attempt to avoid the other’s unwelcome touch. His whole body flinched with a sickening roll of his stomach when warm fingers teased across his throat, wiping clean all traces of foul play._

_He felt violated, lost, and so completely alone._

_The touch continued to linger, brazenly tracing up the strained column of his throat and along the bold edge of his jaw, hooking a finger under his chin. “And now, something wonderful is going to happen, for me and for you”_

_Screwing his eyes shut and harshly biting down on the inside of his cheek, Cas fought against his emotions. The final few words had glitched; distorted into something deeper, huskier, something sounding painfully familiar._

_Dean?!_

_“I want you to live this new life to the fullest;” the hunter added. The pad of his thumb gently stroked over the angel’s cheek, giving all the encouragement needed for Cas to shift into the touch. The wording cried out with further familiarity; coaxing welled up tears to finally fall. “- Find a wife, make babies, and when you die, and your soul comes to heaven. Find me, and tell me if it was worth it … now go!”_

> _**-** _

Castiel woke with a start. To the sound of another’s pained groan and to the discomfort of damp clothes wrapped unceremoniously around his limbs. His head throbbed with an uninvited migraine while something, from just behind him, shifted and pawed at his side. 

Even without prior experience, it felt relatively safe to say, he felt like shit _._

__

Given the fact that neither had, what some would call a ‘restful night’s’ sleep, it shouldn’t have come to much of a surprise, that instead of waking up slowly and taking a moment to bask in the hazy recollection of dopey smiles, languid kisses and idle touches, that so rarely graced his dreams, Dean had instead, been forced awake with a sharp jab to the chest.

[100% more effective than any high retail alarm. Still, would **not** recommend.]

“Jeez, Cas, watch it,” Dean grumbled, into a mop of dark, unkempt hair, before tugging his arm free from where it was being held and rolled gracelessly onto his back. His room had always sat in a near-constant state of gloom, meaning added effort was needed if he wanted to check the time.

The fact Sam, hadn’t come into check on them, gave the suggestion that it was still early.

Rubbing the heel of his palm over his face, Dean groaned around a yawn, before stretching and propping himself up on his elbow, feeling the mattress subtly adjust. The rest of the bed was a mass entanglement of limbs and sheets with a surprising revelation to why his right side had felt weighted.

“Dean?”

“Huh? Hey buddy, how’d you sleep?” 

“Not well,” Cas muttered, the words somewhat muffled by the sweat sodden pillow he appeared to be desperately clinging onto.

“Bad dream?” he asked as if the state of the bed wasn’t answering enough. “Can’t say I’m surprised, your temperature rocketed to something crazy like 102 - 103, got Sam suggesting we haul your ass into a cool shower.” Which was only partly true. Sam had been the one shooting down the proposal by reeling off some advice he’d found on ‘Mumsnet’ via Google, noting how it could be a shock to the system. So yeah, that idea was quickly dropped in favour of offering lighter sheets. “We were pretty worried, you know?”

“It hadn’t been my intention. You both have enough to worry about, I hadn’t meant too, but Hannah had -” 

“Cas stop, alright.” Dean interrupted, a mild hint of anger surrounding his tone. “We can talk about this later when we're both feeling a little more up for it, but for now, just be as thankful, as we are, that she found you.” Without thought, Dean offered a more comforting smile, before reaching over, pressing their bodies flush, to rest the backs of his fingers against his friend’s brow.

He still felt warm, but, thankfully not as clammy as he had a few hours prior. However, the moment had also offered an opportune distraction, which allowed Dean to casually slip his leg lose, but not before noting that Cas had begun wriggling back into him, triggering a blush to spread over his cheeks without restraint.

Deans breath notably hitched, as a tentative touch added to the not so subtle onslaught, traced over his partly open palm, teasing his fingers apart before loosely interlinking. “Cas?” the name sounding breathier than he would have liked, “what are you doing?”

The change in mood became evident as his hand was guided lower in response, pausing only when he was able to feel a brush of soft lips ghosting across the back of his hand, “I’m thanking you for looking after me.”

“But I haven’t - didn’t … We -” It was his turn to be cut short, only this time, it was by soft kisses pressed against each knuckle and the surprisingly pleasant scratch of stubble. “If I’m making you uncomfortable I can -”

“No!” Dean quickly added, “no you’re fine, its just – unexpected… Not that I’m complaining, but what brought all this on.” His fingers tightened briefly as if the point needed to be made clearer. 

“I assumed I was merely continuing the moment of intimacy,” Cas offered, glancing weakly over his shoulder. “I woke up a few times during the night with you, -” how could he put this? “I think the popular human term is spooning? You appeared rather reluctant to let go.” The bed creaked as Cas shuffled and groaned in an ill-fated attempt to roll over, quickly catching Deans concerned gaze. “I did find the sensation comforting.”

Looking down over the former angels shadowed features, Dean absently licked his lips. He was completely out of his comfort zone but there was something about it that he found exhilarating, a small voice telling him to throw caution to the wind and ‘just go for it’.

Leaning in closer, Dean barely had time to respond before a familiar voiced boomed and echoed around the small space. Someone, apparently, slept well. “Hey, how’s Cas do-ing?! … erm”

“Better,” dean deadpanned, squinting a scowl toward his ‘forever cockblocking’ brother while resisting the urge to shift back. “You ever heard of knocking?”


End file.
